Post by The Brothers Holland on Nov 9, 2007 21:47:34 GMT -6
*It's a desert scene. Night time. A man leans over a small-ish brick wall looking out into the darkness of the sandy wastes. His 3 quarter length coat blows gently in the wind. The camera circles about him slowly as the following monologue can be heard.*
"There's a pestilence. An infection that threatens the thing I hold dearest above all else. My recent excursion to the national title... I don't know what happened there... I don't get it at all. My heart just wasn't in it... Maybe it's because I didn't really earn it. I earned the shot, sure but the title was given to me. This though... the tag belt that was round my waist a month ago... it's now in disrepute. Held by two guys who don't deserve it, stolen, defended once and retained on a DQ technicality. You know these guys have won one match since last month and that was when assisted by Dave. Is that the kind of champions we want? Do we really want to suffer the humiliation of having second best carrying the gold around? I won't deny it, those guys are great at dodging bullets. They've got smarts that I don't have time or patience for. And that's great for them, it's kept them in the winner's circle for much longer than their athletic prowess would. But the rules of the game have been changed. Like Punisher said, four men enter... two men leave. And none before the final bell. No running away... no bullet dodging, no surprise attacks. Sealed within a mesh of metal on not one, not two.. but 5 sides. The rules are very different. Only two creatures are locked in cells. Psycopaths and Animals. That makes this not the home of the technician.. not the realm of the flyer not even the turf of the brawler. This is the home... of the loose cannon. Of the deranged and those that don't care for holding back, not even at the point of homicide. This is the home of that which cures all disease, destroys all pestilence and burns away everything that's where it doesn't belong. This is the home..."
*The camera reaches the height of the man's face. He's wearing a wide brimmed black hat similar to the one The Undertaker wears but not so tall. The brim is dipped so that only the mouth can be seen of the face. The mouth smiles before looking up into the camera. The camera zooms into the eyes of Milo Holland, also known as 'Firestorm' Milo Holland.*
Milo: Of the Firestorm.
*Someone very clever here puts in some computer graphics of flames igniting in Milo's eyes. Soon after the whole screen is put in flames as the camera cuts to a few minutes later. Milo is walking into the nearby building. It seems like an ordinary bar to begin with and Milo carries on with a dialogue this time in his head*
"I thought I told you boys to go find yourself a cage match to get some practice in?"
"That's right."
"Oh that's good. Because for a second there I thought I might have said 'go find a hellhole of a bar and drink yourself stupid'"
"Woah... Dad... chill out."
"Hey! Just because I'm in your body don't think I won't put you over my knee!"
"You mean my knee... and it'd be putting yourself over it."
"Whatever... I'll do it!"
"No you won't. I'm not here to drink."
"What the hell else do you go to a bar like this for?"
"For what's downstairs."
*Milo walks away from the bar and through a back door. The sound of people shouting can be heard but it sounds almost distant. It gets progressively louder though as Milo heads down a flight of stairs.*
"Y'see while a cage match is a great idea for training for a cell match I thought it would be better to go one further. So I've come back here. I'm a regular you see... they know me here. So I'll have a crowd.. an entire horde of people cheering for me.. against me.. whatever. There'll be an opponent I know is up to giving me a good fight but since me and Dave are reigning champs here I know there won't be any serious repurcussions for this... not like last week as you saw. What we have here is a room with a solid floor.. solid crowd.. and solid competition. That should be more than enough don't you think?"
*Milo opens the door at the bottom of the stairs and the camera looks through to the fight club that we've seen Dave and Milo frequent several times. The crowd fully erupt as Milo opens the door. They're standing about the room all around a structure that's been specially erected in the middle of the room.*
"And that would be?"
"Oh right yeah... I got them to put up a big *** damn cage. Y'know.. just in case the rest of it wasn't enough."
"Nice."
"I thought so."
*Milo walks over to a set of lockers. He walks right up to locker 72 and undoes the lock. He opens it and places his coat and hat inside. His outfit is slightly different to usual. His trousers are 3/4 length and he wears a red vest rather than his usual olive t-shirt. He takes something out of the locker and locks the door again. He then places the mask he took out over his head. it's red with gold, fire-like trim.*
"Oh dear god what is that thing?"
"My mask. I prefer to go by my alias here. 'The Amaranth'. It means the ever-living."
"Dear god... that could be the saddest thing I've ever heard."
"Hey... this place is less serious than the wrestling world, I'm just having some fun with a gimmick ok? Ok."
*Milo makes his way to one of the two doors into the cage.*
"You've wrestled cell matches before... you've wrestled cage matches before. I don't have to tell you what you have to do for full supremacy in this place right?"
"No. Punisher talks about having only lost one cage match before but I'm certain he hasn't got the ability to do what I'm about to do. Go animalistic... feral even. If I pick someone from the floor the option to throw them into the wall is there. The conflict twixt flesh and metal that ends in a failure of the living. Give in to instinct... succumb to rage. If ever there was a match specifically designed for Milo Dominic Holland it was the cell. This cell... this sunday's cell.. to borrow a phrase from Carl.. I am the man of this *** damn cell!"
*There is a man stood in the middle of the cell. He raises his hands high in the air as if asking for a silence. An outcry of 'no more bets' can be heard from the resident bookies. Then the man in the center begins to introduce the match.*
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we witness the first ever cage match in our fine establishment. Between two men you all know and we all admire. This match will still undergo the standard rules. Your opponent falls limp, the match is over. Your opponent taps out or yells for the match to end, it's over. There are no pinfalls and otherwise no other rules for those who have recently joined us from the wrestling world. However there is one rule in place tonight that would otherwise not be. Due to the nature of the match there will be a 30 minute time limit. Now to our combatants. In the red corner... the raging inferno that has swept away countless victims in his wake, I give you, The Amaranth!
*Cheers from the crowd as Milo steps forward into the cage. The cell door behind him is closed and locked.
Announcer: And his opponent... arguably the fastest man in the world. Whos speed and tenacity has seen men overwhelmed even before any match has started. His skin harder than iron, his bones tougher than steel. With an amazing record of absolutely no submissions in his entire history of dark match fighting... i give you, Lightning!
*A man dressed in a white jumpsuit with blue stripes down the side steps into the ring. He's also wearing a mask. His is silver with gold lightning style trim. He showboats to the crowd as the door behind him is closed and locked once the announcer has exited from the cell. He nods to Milo who nods back but nothing more.*
"Something about this guy seems odd... almost familiar."
"He new?"
"I don't know. The name's new but the guy.. something's very familiar."
"We'll figure it out later. Right now he's yet to submit or call for a match to end. That's an impressive record. One I expect you to break. Just like with Punisher this weekend."
"Oh yeah... Punisher doesn't know the half of what he's facing. And this guy... well it's time for him to recieve an education in pain."
*The camera widens to show the two men facing each other in the cage. It then fades out to black with 'To Be Continued' in white letters.*
"There's a pestilence. An infection that threatens the thing I hold dearest above all else. My recent excursion to the national title... I don't know what happened there... I don't get it at all. My heart just wasn't in it... Maybe it's because I didn't really earn it. I earned the shot, sure but the title was given to me. This though... the tag belt that was round my waist a month ago... it's now in disrepute. Held by two guys who don't deserve it, stolen, defended once and retained on a DQ technicality. You know these guys have won one match since last month and that was when assisted by Dave. Is that the kind of champions we want? Do we really want to suffer the humiliation of having second best carrying the gold around? I won't deny it, those guys are great at dodging bullets. They've got smarts that I don't have time or patience for. And that's great for them, it's kept them in the winner's circle for much longer than their athletic prowess would. But the rules of the game have been changed. Like Punisher said, four men enter... two men leave. And none before the final bell. No running away... no bullet dodging, no surprise attacks. Sealed within a mesh of metal on not one, not two.. but 5 sides. The rules are very different. Only two creatures are locked in cells. Psycopaths and Animals. That makes this not the home of the technician.. not the realm of the flyer not even the turf of the brawler. This is the home... of the loose cannon. Of the deranged and those that don't care for holding back, not even at the point of homicide. This is the home of that which cures all disease, destroys all pestilence and burns away everything that's where it doesn't belong. This is the home..."
*The camera reaches the height of the man's face. He's wearing a wide brimmed black hat similar to the one The Undertaker wears but not so tall. The brim is dipped so that only the mouth can be seen of the face. The mouth smiles before looking up into the camera. The camera zooms into the eyes of Milo Holland, also known as 'Firestorm' Milo Holland.*
Milo: Of the Firestorm.
*Someone very clever here puts in some computer graphics of flames igniting in Milo's eyes. Soon after the whole screen is put in flames as the camera cuts to a few minutes later. Milo is walking into the nearby building. It seems like an ordinary bar to begin with and Milo carries on with a dialogue this time in his head*
"I thought I told you boys to go find yourself a cage match to get some practice in?"
"That's right."
"Oh that's good. Because for a second there I thought I might have said 'go find a hellhole of a bar and drink yourself stupid'"
"Woah... Dad... chill out."
"Hey! Just because I'm in your body don't think I won't put you over my knee!"
"You mean my knee... and it'd be putting yourself over it."
"Whatever... I'll do it!"
"No you won't. I'm not here to drink."
"What the hell else do you go to a bar like this for?"
"For what's downstairs."
*Milo walks away from the bar and through a back door. The sound of people shouting can be heard but it sounds almost distant. It gets progressively louder though as Milo heads down a flight of stairs.*
"Y'see while a cage match is a great idea for training for a cell match I thought it would be better to go one further. So I've come back here. I'm a regular you see... they know me here. So I'll have a crowd.. an entire horde of people cheering for me.. against me.. whatever. There'll be an opponent I know is up to giving me a good fight but since me and Dave are reigning champs here I know there won't be any serious repurcussions for this... not like last week as you saw. What we have here is a room with a solid floor.. solid crowd.. and solid competition. That should be more than enough don't you think?"
*Milo opens the door at the bottom of the stairs and the camera looks through to the fight club that we've seen Dave and Milo frequent several times. The crowd fully erupt as Milo opens the door. They're standing about the room all around a structure that's been specially erected in the middle of the room.*
"And that would be?"
"Oh right yeah... I got them to put up a big *** damn cage. Y'know.. just in case the rest of it wasn't enough."
"Nice."
"I thought so."
*Milo walks over to a set of lockers. He walks right up to locker 72 and undoes the lock. He opens it and places his coat and hat inside. His outfit is slightly different to usual. His trousers are 3/4 length and he wears a red vest rather than his usual olive t-shirt. He takes something out of the locker and locks the door again. He then places the mask he took out over his head. it's red with gold, fire-like trim.*
"Oh dear god what is that thing?"
"My mask. I prefer to go by my alias here. 'The Amaranth'. It means the ever-living."
"Dear god... that could be the saddest thing I've ever heard."
"Hey... this place is less serious than the wrestling world, I'm just having some fun with a gimmick ok? Ok."
*Milo makes his way to one of the two doors into the cage.*
"You've wrestled cell matches before... you've wrestled cage matches before. I don't have to tell you what you have to do for full supremacy in this place right?"
"No. Punisher talks about having only lost one cage match before but I'm certain he hasn't got the ability to do what I'm about to do. Go animalistic... feral even. If I pick someone from the floor the option to throw them into the wall is there. The conflict twixt flesh and metal that ends in a failure of the living. Give in to instinct... succumb to rage. If ever there was a match specifically designed for Milo Dominic Holland it was the cell. This cell... this sunday's cell.. to borrow a phrase from Carl.. I am the man of this *** damn cell!"
*There is a man stood in the middle of the cell. He raises his hands high in the air as if asking for a silence. An outcry of 'no more bets' can be heard from the resident bookies. Then the man in the center begins to introduce the match.*
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we witness the first ever cage match in our fine establishment. Between two men you all know and we all admire. This match will still undergo the standard rules. Your opponent falls limp, the match is over. Your opponent taps out or yells for the match to end, it's over. There are no pinfalls and otherwise no other rules for those who have recently joined us from the wrestling world. However there is one rule in place tonight that would otherwise not be. Due to the nature of the match there will be a 30 minute time limit. Now to our combatants. In the red corner... the raging inferno that has swept away countless victims in his wake, I give you, The Amaranth!
*Cheers from the crowd as Milo steps forward into the cage. The cell door behind him is closed and locked.
Announcer: And his opponent... arguably the fastest man in the world. Whos speed and tenacity has seen men overwhelmed even before any match has started. His skin harder than iron, his bones tougher than steel. With an amazing record of absolutely no submissions in his entire history of dark match fighting... i give you, Lightning!
*A man dressed in a white jumpsuit with blue stripes down the side steps into the ring. He's also wearing a mask. His is silver with gold lightning style trim. He showboats to the crowd as the door behind him is closed and locked once the announcer has exited from the cell. He nods to Milo who nods back but nothing more.*
"Something about this guy seems odd... almost familiar."
"He new?"
"I don't know. The name's new but the guy.. something's very familiar."
"We'll figure it out later. Right now he's yet to submit or call for a match to end. That's an impressive record. One I expect you to break. Just like with Punisher this weekend."
"Oh yeah... Punisher doesn't know the half of what he's facing. And this guy... well it's time for him to recieve an education in pain."
*The camera widens to show the two men facing each other in the cage. It then fades out to black with 'To Be Continued' in white letters.*